


Enough

by qwanderer



Series: Fallen!Gabe [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fallen Angel Gabriel (Good Omens), Gen, Other, with a pretty good ending actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:27:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22353322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qwanderer/pseuds/qwanderer
Summary: “So. You’ve fallen. How does it feel?”This time, Gabriel glared right back. “You already know.”“Yes, I do,” Crowley agreed readily. “I know exactly how it feels. I want to hear you say it. You don’t know how badly I want to hear you say it, Gabe.”“What did you just call me?”“Gabe,” Crowley repeated, matter-of-fact, and then in a singsong tone he repeated, “Gabe, Gabe, Gabe.”
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Fallen!Gabe [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1463686
Comments: 7
Kudos: 134





	Enough

The world felt… weird.

The world had always been somewhat overwhelming for Gabriel. Harsh and grating and Too Much. Like listening to sixteen different songs that had all been turned up too loud. Humans had love inside them, that was true, and joy and harmony and so much that was good and pleasant, but the rhythms didn’t fall in line with each other the way they did in Gabriel’s immaculately organized heavenly office.

Upon stepping out of the lobby, this time, Gabriel felt as if the world had been turned inside out. Flipped, like an overdone pancake that revealed a scorched, blackened underside. 

It was just as overwhelming, just as discordant, but this time, it was the discord that pulled at Gabriel’s demonic soul, calling for him to join in.

That… was going to take some getting used to.

Gabriel had spent little enough time on Earth that even though he’d visited Aziraphale’s bookshop more than once, the skewed perspective that his new occult senses gave him made it almost impossible to find the place.

Or perhaps, he didn’t actually want to find it. Well, part of him didn’t. This whole fractured, discordant thing going on inside of him now was always pulling him in more than one direction. He wasn’t accustomed to sussing out the separate elements yet. 

He could learn things on his own, his mind whispered to him. He could explore Earth, chase down human solutions. He could do it without crawling to Those Two for help.

It took almost walking into a pole for him to realize that no, he couldn’t. Not without a long, frustrating, embarrassing mess of attempts that had the potential to be worse than crawling to Those Two.

Refusing to go to them for help was self-sabotage.

He looked for landmarks, tried to focus. He fought the disorientation of his new senses, and he fought the stubbornest elements of his own mind. He felt as if he were being tossed about on unfamiliar tides. But somehow, he washed up in front of the bookshop’s door.

The bell rang as he pushed the door open, and he looked around, not sure whether he was hoping to find Aziraphale or not.

What he absolutely did not want to see was an irate demon approaching him with intent. So of course, that was what he got. 

Crowley stepped right up to him and lowered his glasses to show furious, yellow slitted eyes, which darted over Gabriel as if ensuring that he was actually there. 

“Fuck’s sake,” Crowley muttered under his breath, clearly to himself although he was close enough that Gabriel could hear as clearly as if he’d spoken himself. 

Without raising his volume, but now clearly talking to Gabriel, Crowley said, “Thought we told you to leave us alone. You’ve got some nerve coming here, after what you tried to do to Aziraphale. After you failed. After he showed you what he could have done to you if he’d been so inclined.”

It was terrifying, the quiet assurance in his voice. The utter lack of fear.

Gabriel refused to step back, refused to flinch. But he also couldn’t muster any coherent response, so he just blinked.

Crowley gave a frustrated huff, and didn’t so much retreat at all as simply reposition his sunglasses and slouch a bit to one side. “So, out with it,” he said. “Why are you here? What does Heaven want with us now?” 

“I’m not here on behalf of Heaven,” Gabriel managed.

“‘Not here on behalf of Heaven’,” Crowley mocked. “What the ever-loving fuck is that supposed to mean?”

A familiar blond figure appeared at Crowley’s side, and pulled him aside slightly. “Crowley, look,” he said, gesturing at Gabriel.

Gabriel took the opportunity to shut the shop door behind him, to have at least some sort of barrier between himself and the human chaos outside, although he could still feel it. 

Instead, he stood in front of the two beings whose potential power was unknown to him, and whose motivations he didn’t understand. His mind screamed at him that he’d quietly shut the door on the frying pan in order to share close quarters with the fire. 

“What?” Crowley hissed at Aziraphale. “That git? I have been. Looking. Intently.”

“No, you’ve been glaring,” Aziraphale disagreed. “Something’s changed. Can’t you see it? He’s… there’s something wrong with his halo. Something very… very wrong. I don’t know…”

Crowley took off his dark glasses entirely this time and peered at Gabriel again, his gaze now quick and curious. Then his eyebrows shot up. “I do. He’s a demon.” A complex mix of emotions passed across Crowley’s face.

Aziraphale’s eyes widened. “That’s impossible.”

Gabriel wanted so much to be able to agree. It was a ridiculous prospect. But the evidence was there. Clawing through Gabriel’s essence, hungry and raw.

A sharp-edged glee had begun to dominate Crowley’s expression now, and he crowed with laughter. “Oh, this is perfect. The divine asshole, kicked out of heaven like a common demon.” He shook his head theatrically. “So. You’ve fallen. How does it feel?”

This time, Gabriel glared right back. “You already know.”

“Yes, I do,” Crowley agreed readily. “I know exactly how it feels. I want to hear  _ you  _ say it. You don’t know how badly I want to hear you say it, Gabe.”

“What did you just call me?”

“Gabe,” Crowley repeated, matter-of-fact, and then in a singsong tone he repeated, “Gabe, Gabe, Gabe.”

“Stop that,” Gabriel hissed quietly.

Crowley was uncowed. “Nope,” he said.

“My name is Gabriel!”

With a mockery of a contemplative hum, Crowley stroked his chin before saying, “That name leaves a bad taste in my mouth, Gabe. I don’t feel like using it.”

Gabriel seethed.

“Yes, I know,” Crowley said with a roll of his eyes. “You’re the Archangel Fucking Gabriel. Except you’re not, now! And you never will be again. You fell. What exactly was the tipping point? What did our dear Mother decide was one thought too much? I don’t even have to ask what sin it was. It’s written all over you.  _ Pride.”  _

“I see,” Aziraphale said to himself, watching the two of them. The understanding, the sympathy in his eyes, they burned Gabriel.

“Well, you don’t get to be proud of being the Archangel Gabriel anymore,” Crowley continued. “You’re going to have to find something else to be proud of. Because you. Aren’t. Him.”

Those terrible, sympathetic eyes were turned on Crowley now. “Crowley,” Aziraphale said gently. “Crowley. My dear. That’s enough.”

“It is not enough!” Crowley narrowed his eyes, not looking away from Gabriel although he was clearly talking to Aziraphale now. “It will  _ never _ be enough. He tried to kill you with a smile on his face.”

“Well,” said Aziraphale, “given the current circumstances, I may see fit to forgive him.”

“What.” The unrelenting pressure of Crowley’s golden eyes was suddenly diverted onto Aziraphale, and Gabriel took a breath. He hadn’t realized how heavy that gaze had become until it was gone. 

“I forgive him,” Aziraphale repeated.

“Angel, he  _ fell  _ for what he tried to do to you. You understand that? He’s a demon. Demons can’t be forgiven.”

Aziraphale shook his head. “Darling, we’ve had this conversation already, I believe.  _ She _ may choose not to forgive the Fallen. But She will not stop  _ me _ from doing so.”

Crowley’s eyes darted to Gabriel again. “But. You remember  _ what he did. What he said. What you told me he said, _ yeah? You remember that, Aziraphale?”

“Are you very angry with me?” Aziraphale asked him. 

Crowley spluttered for a moment. “I cuh… ngh… I am a bit,” he finally said, slightly sheepish. 

“Hmm,” Aziraphale hummed, a tiny smile on his face. 

Then Crowley’s face softened into a genuinely thoughtful expression, which turned to a fond smile. “Oh, very clever,” he said. “Taking some of the heat yourself.”

Aziraphale took Crowley’s face in his hands and said softly, “You can be angry with me, and we’ll both survive it. And we both know it.”

“Oh, angel,” Crowley sighed. “What would I do without you?”

“I shudder to think,” Aziraphale murmured, and kissed him. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah,” Crowley agreed. “Thanks.”

Gabriel watched the two of them with growing irritation. “You two,” he said. “Why does she let you do this? Why do you get to break all the rules? Why are you allowed to be so fucking happy?” The sweetness between the two of them made Gabriel feel sick.

Crowley turned towards him again. “I told you it wasn’t enough,” he said aside to Aziraphale. “Least now I’m thinking straight again.” He took Aziraphale’s hand in his, so that they stood side by side, facing Gabriel.

This time, when Crowley looked at Gabriel, it was with calm assessment. “Yeah,” he said, “we're happy. In love. And the almighty hasn't seen fit to punish us for our sins. Not this time.” He smiled just a bit. “Bet it really pisses you off.”

Jaw clenched, Gabriel refused to respond to that. He wasn’t a demon. He didn’t want to be a demon! He didn’t want this anger, this opposition to Her choices that he was suddenly aware of, pumping through his veins, hot as the pit he’d fallen into.

“Come on,” Crowley cajoled, as if they were old friends, in on a massive joke. “You can admit it. We’re none of us Her good little soldiers here, not anymore. We all have our own opinions about how things should be done.”

“That’s not the point!” Gabriel insisted, the words escaping without his having entirely decided to speak. “I won’t be one of you. I won’t!”

“Hmm,” Crowley said. “It sounds to me like you’re refusing the role She’s chosen for you. Disobeying Her explicit intent. How is that…  _ not _ rebelling, again?”

This time, when Gabriel clenched his teeth around any further sounds, the only thing he was holding back was a snarl.

“Oh, that’s wrath,” Crowley diagnosed calmly. 

Gabriel’s new appendages ached and itched with the urge to reach out, to strike, to hurt. But he held himself still, because he was not like them. He would not stoop so low. And because he feared these two and what they could do to him if he made himself an immediate threat to them.

“You’ve good reason to be angry, in my opinion,” Crowley continued conversationally. “She made you the way you are, after all. She made you prone to sins. She must have made you this way for a reason. Was it a good one?” He shrugged. “Not good enough, from where I’m standing.”

“I’ve never…” Gabriel fought the growl playing at the edges of his voice. “It’s not my place. To question.”

“Do you have a place?” Crowley asked. “Anymore?”

Gabriel was breathing hard, despite every reason why he shouldn’t need to. 

“Or did she toss you out like last week’s manky garbage? Are you angry?” Crowley’s smile was all sharp edges, and he was pushing into Gabriel’s space again. “Tell me how God-Damned  _ angry _ you are. Say it!”

Something worked its way loose, and Gabriel couldn’t stop himself anymore. “You want me to say it?” he roared, so loud the whole shop shook, and dust bloomed up into the air from forgotten corners.  _ “I’m fucking furious!” _

His shout echoed in the suddenly silent room. 

“That’s it,” Crowley said, almost gently. “Here you are. Gabe. You're here. You're satisfied. It's enough.”

The silence was… light, lighter than anything Gabriel had felt in some time. He frowned, feeling lost. 

“All you want is peace,” Crowley continued in that oddly soft tone. “Or you think all you want is peace. But that's not what feeds you anymore. You need, you're thirsty, you don't know what you need. So you lash out. Hurt the ones around you. Savor the pain, the discord. And that fixes it. That slakes your thirst. For a moment, just a little. So you keep doing it. To everyone who tries to get close.”

Aziraphale squeezed Crowley’s hand, and Crowley took a breath before continuing. “It’s a game, in Hell. Who can get the better end of the deal when it comes to inflicting this shit on each other. Lucifer won't tell you that. He’d lose his advantage. He wants you lost and alone. Your frustration, your anger, your disquiet, it all feeds him. Demons torture each other for what they need all the time.”

“Right,” Gabriel said, thinking it over. It made sense, as far as it went. But there was a piece that didn’t quite fit. “So you feed on it, too. And you expect me to believe you're stopping, just like that?”

Crowley gave a long sigh. “Listen, all that? The fight, the pushing? That was for a lot of reasons. To get it out of your system. To get it out of mine. Comeuppance for the way you treat Aziraphale. To slake your thirst. But I think we've both had enough.”

Cautiously, Gabriel nodded agreement.

“I’ll fix us some tea,” Aziraphale said, patting Crowley’s hand and giving Gabriel a smile that was somehow warmer than most the Archangel had seen from him. 

And Gabriel found himself sitting down in the back room of the bookshop with Those Two and a cup of sugary tea, with no purity to sully and in need of something to do with his hands. So he drank.

It was strange, what he was feeling. He might almost call it….

Peace.

Not the kind of peace that heaven was blanketed with. 

Perhaps… dare he even think it… perhaps a peace more satisfying, because of the storm that had come before it. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm planning on one more work to wrap up this series, I think!


End file.
